Changeling
by theFaun
Summary: The stories had started out harmlessly enough, intended to warn children away from the thinly-frozen surface of the village pond in the winter. But what happens when the village children report sightings of the ghostly boy of lore? Fairy tales are not always taken kindly by adults, even if they do believe. AU, takes place in colonial Ireland. Human!Pitch, Faerie!Jack.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: New story. Tell me what you guys think, please!**

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The stories had started out harmlessly enough, intended to warn children away from the thinly-frozen surface of the village pond in the winter. The adults from the small Irish village who crafted these tales were originally inspired by the ghostly mist that would rise from the pond's surface and creep its tendrils up the banks, slowly unfurling, as if beckoning anyone close enough to come near-but when a disturbing presence began to make itself known, the stories evolved.

They were told with a bit more urgency.

Parents no longer threw out a careless warning towards their children as they ran off to play by the pond; the children were sat down, sternly spoken to. The creases in their parents' brows should have been warning enough-but you know children.

Dying to explore the rolling hills of the winter countryside rather than stay cooped up indoors in front of hearths, the children of the village would wander. When they returned, they told tales that deeply worried their parents-stories of a boy with hair and skin as white as snow that would often climb up the banks of the misty pond to join in their games. They spoke of him with joy in their eyes, telling of how he would laugh and run and frolic like any normal child, but when it was time for them to return home, the pale boy would say farewell with a sad smile and walk back towards the water's edge where he seemed to disappear.

Yes, the children spoke of the strange child fondly; however, fairy tales are not always taken kindly by adults.

Rumors among mothers began to circulate while their husbands were out hunting.

There was a faerie plaguing the water, they said. The more they thought about it, the more things fit into place: even in the summertime, the pond, as small as it was, would remain frigidly cold as if held in the grasp of the dead. Muffled crying could be heard, entangled with the whine of the wind, if one listened closely on stormy nights. Windows left shut overnight would be half-open by morning, the mark of a poor-practiced thief, but the glass would be marked with delicate frost patterns that looked carefully hand-drawn. And then the stories their children told, of playing with a white-haired boy by the pond.

Too much of it added up.

In a close-knit rural village as small as this one, rumors spread quickly as the plague among families and households. Mothers began to speak with fear that their children might be in danger.

A couple men of the village yearned to take action, but didn't dare do so without a nod from their town's leader, Keiran. Therefore, a meeting was planned.

By far the most intrigued by the children's stories was a lithe man by the name of Pitchiner, called "Pitch" by those around him because of his head of raven-black hair that stood out with stark contrast from the other villagers' locks of reds and browns. Pitchiner, who was one and without a family, served as a village hunter along with three other stronger men: Caden, Ryann, and Mael. Pitch, though he never spoke it out loud, considered himself to be somewhat of the brain to their brawn.

He was an expert hunter, after all, always knowing the best locations to lay traps and remaining aware of animals' hiding places during the winter. So, when the men of the village were called to council on a crisp November night by Keiran, it was Pitch that spoke up with a plot to rid the pond of the faerie or kelpie or spirit that plagued its icy depths and posed a possible threat to their children.

It was around a crackling bonfire that the group of hunters and a few craftsmen gathered to discuss plans to eliminate the threat.

"I can construct a cage of sorts with the limbs of the Alder that grow by the pond to contain whatever it is we are dealing with," suggested Caden, one of the village hunters, voice gruff.

He was met by vigorous nodding by the men all around as firelight flickered against their rough features.

Keiran, a stocky man with rough red stubble leaned forwards on his stump, interested. His booming voice was next to be heard over the crackling of firewood.

"And how do you plan to lure the thing into your trap?"

"If I might", Mael spoke up, "shouldn't we need meat to lure a kelpie, or a binding spell to nag a faerie? Last time I checked, meat was in high demand around here, and with winter setting in-"

He was cut off by the smooth, sure voice of Pitch as he interjected.

"Have you not heard the stories of the children? Whatever we're dealing with is brave, bold—it shan't need much luring. It seems to me like the children might hold more truth than you give them credit for. Young ones are strangely wise about these faerie happenings, you know, if that is indeed what we're dealing with."

A few of his companions nodded in agreement, but Pitch was met with a curt frown from Keiran's direction.

"Are you saying we should go about believing all the fairytales our wild-minded children come up with? I'm sorry, Pitchiner, but you are well aware that we have real problems to attend to with the winter coming in so harsh. Game is in high demand. And what do we do with the thing once we've caught it?"

Pitch didn't falter. "No game will be wasted, you have my word. This thing has taken this village by trickery, and we, in turn, will use trickery against it. Boy-faeries are fond of games, mischief, are they not? They are curious by nature. As for what we do with it: we'll do what must be done."

The surrounding men grunted in agreement.

Ryann spoke next. "Our wives will be freed from their worry, our children freed from any danger. I am with Pitch." More nods of approval.

Keiran nodded slowly, contemplating. "Then go. Pitchiner, Ryann, Mael, Caden-I entrust to you four the safety of this village. You are the best hunters we have; I have faith you will not let us down."

Pitch smiled, standing up, a thin smile creeping across his gaunt features, grey in the dim light.

"I shan't."

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**A/N: Getting the drama bomb rolling! If you guys surprise me with some reviews I'll have the next chapter posted tomorrow, I promise! Thanks for reading, don't forget to review! xx **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for the nice comments and reviews, guys! Great way to start off my day. :) Here's the next chapter, as promised...enjoy! Here's where we left off:**

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_Keiran nodded slowly, contemplating. "Then go. Pitchiner, Ryann, Mael, Caden-I entrust to you four the safety of this village. You are the best hunters we have; I have faith you will not let us down."_

_Pitch smiled, standing up, a thin smile creeping across his gaunt features, grey in the dim light._

_"I shan't."_

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Over the next week, preparations were made in regards to capturing the creature. The Alder by the pond had its sturdy branches felled and whittled by Caden, who was a fine carpenter and craftsmen as well as hunter. A box of crosshatching limbs was constructed, with a door that slammed down from the top bars and locked, large enough to allow their quarry to sit with its legs outstretched almost comfortably.

After the construction of the cage was completed, Pitch talked once again with Keiran, telling him of the plan that would be carried out at dawn the next day.

They would leave bait by the reeds at the pond-simple, shiny things that would spur any child's curiosity: stones smoothed by the gurgling brook down the hill, a lead cross pendant, a metal spoon, a bit from a pony's bridle. When the faerie boy appeared to investigate, they would be armed and ready.

All that was left to do now was wait to see what tomorrow would hold.

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Pitch rose at the first hint of sunrise, barely-formed rays of light filtering in through crude window panes and splattering the dirt floor of his one-room home with dawn's colors. Rolling out of the straw bed, the tall man pulled on black pants and leather boots, worn soft from work and wear. Pitch then headed to the washbasin on the table under the window, heels thumping on the tight-packed earth. He glanced for a moment at the surface of the icy water, briefly taking in his reflection: sharp cheekbones, thin lips, sunken amber eyes. Not the same face of the man who lived with his daughter years ago...

Pitch frowned before promptly ruining the image, splashing water from his cupped hands onto his face and shaking his slick black hair dry. It would be a long day, but here was a chance to do something fulfilling with his life again. This would be good for him. Good for the village.

Before heading out to meet the others, Pitch grabbed the small hunting knife that rested on the wooden table, not bothering to wipe the crusted blood that stained the blade. He turned the knife over with long fingers, admiring the way the sunlight made the metal glow, worn and dull though it was.

This was a chance.

Pocketing the knife, Pitch turned and promptly headed out the door, creaking it open pulling it closed with a slam in his wake.

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The others were gathered by the extinguished fire, shuffling their heels and talking amongst themselves. Heads turned when Pitch strolled over to join them, stepping around the large rectangular cage upturned and placed near the fire pit. He was greeted with nods and mumbled "Morning"s from the three hunters, each of whom were bundled in multiple layers to ward of the morning's biting chill. Ryann had a thick loop of rough rope slung over one shoulder, and each man had a knife at their belt just in case. Mael carried a large leather sack big enough to contain a grown human.

The ill-concealed whispers of children and hushed voices of mothers reached the gathering; the village was buzzing in anticipation of what was to come. Gossip had spread among the households that the hunters were setting off looking for something very important, but nobody knew quite what.

"Well then," Pitch broke the silence. "Do we have our bait?"

Mael grinned and produced a small leather pouch, tossing it once in his hand so the clinking of the metal objects inside could be heard.

"Excellent. Now, the plan..."

The four men started walking towards the pond east of their small village, gathering around Pitch as he spoke.

It was decided that they would sneak up quietly to the outcropping of shrubs and small trees by the banks, placing the bait just out of the large patch of reeds where they suspected the creature might be hiding. When it showed its face, Ryann and Mael would pounce with the sack and rope, while Pitch and Caden held back and made sure everything went to plan. Then they'd wrestle the thing into captivity.

If all went well, they would be celebrating with ales around the fire that night; it sounded fool-proof. Relatively.

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After a minute or so walk, the pond came into view. Fog curled across its glassy grey surface and the breeze rustled the nearby dry foliage, making the scene all the more eerie as the four men crept closer.

Pitch got the others' attentions and pointed to a nearby cluster of shrubs, carefully mouthing "There", signalling to where they should hide.

The men, holding their breath, stalked behind Pitch to crouch behind the outcropping where they could peek through branches to the reed cluster and the water beyond. Mael wasted no time in hastily pulling out the leather pouch, dumping its contents into his palm and tossing the glinting objects to the sanctioned spot. Everyone behind the bushes let out a breath.

Let the waiting game begin.

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It was at least two hours before the gathered men saw any sign of the creature they were waiting for-Pitch was the first of them to catch sight of a rustling in the cluster of reeds too large to be fowl.

The man froze, moving only his eyes and his hand in a silent signal to his companions. Mael, Ryann, and Caden snapped out of their states of boredom immediately, catching sight of the disturbance in the tall pond grass mere yards away. All four men crouching behind the bushes collectively stilled and watched in petrified anticipation as what looked to be a human boy stepped softly into sight.

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**A/N: Haha, Jack might be screwed, poor guy. If I can get 5 more reviews by the end of today, I'll post the next chapter as soon as I can manage. Thanks, readers! :-)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: You guys surprised me once again with the lovely comments and reviews! Here's chapter 3 as promised. :)**

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_The gaunt man froze, moving only his eyes and his hand in a silent signal to his companions. Mael, Ryann, and Caden snapped out of their states of boredom immediately, catching sight of the disturbance in the tall pond grass mere yards away. All four men crouching behind the bushes collectively stilled and watched in petrified anticipation as what looked to be a human boy stepped softly into sight._

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The men held their breaths, taking in the sight of a boy who couldn't have been more than 16 as he parted the reeds with a gentle rustling and stepped cautiously onto the grassy banks, slowly reaching one bare foot out before following it with a small leap. The boy looked like a human, for the most part. He carried what looked to be a shepherd's staff in his left hand, and he wore nothing spectacular; deerskin leggings bound from ankle to knee, a white shirt with a vest and a dark brown cloak that seemed to be of a well-enough make draped his thin frame-the only oddities were the fact that the boy's hair, which was short and tousled, was as white as snow. The village had seen a child born with white lashes and skin, but it had been sickly and died shortly after birth. It was unnatural. This had to be the faerie they were after.

The boy's complexion wasn't much different. His skin was ghost pale and seemed to emit a soft glow that provided stark contrast from the dull greens and browns of the pond scenery. The boy's face was beautiful, childish yet sharp, with slightly darker freckles dusted across his nose and cheekbones. His eyes were an icy cerulean, and they glinted with intrigue as the impish child nimbly skipped forwards and crouched before the items that had been lain outside the reeds hours earlier, curiosity taking hold just as Pitch had predicted. The hunter watched his prey's every move with falcon eyes.

Still, the men held back, waiting on Pitch's command. They watched as the child put down his staff and plucked the shining metal bit from the grass with slender fingers, humming quietly as he turned it over in his hand, examining it from all angles. When the sun peeked out from behind an ashen cloud far above, the metal the boy held sparkled in his palm, causing a grin to light up the pale face and the spectacularly blue eyes to widen in delight. The boy-faerie had obviously not detected a threat as he promptly plopped down on the grass. He sat with his long legs folded under him as he bent forwards, his back turned to the mens' hiding place, to examine the shiny spoon and pendant with curiosity befitting any normal child.

Pitch clenched his jaw. This was not a child-this was a creature that posed potential threat to their village and must be dealt with as such.

He would do well not to forget that.

The imposter-child had taken to singing softly now a tune that Pitch had never heard-in fact, it was a melody that no one in the human realm had ever heard of.

They would go through with the plan.

Pitch, moving painstakingly slowly as to not make any noise and cause the faerie to flee, nudged the man closest to him and gave the signal. Mael and Ryan, the burliest of the four, rose carefully and crept around the shrubs that were concealing them and stalked towards the crouching boy with the stealth of expert hunters. A twig snapped under the weight of one of the man's boots.

The boy froze.

The men froze.

Then they pounced.

In one dive Mael and Ryan were on him and a flurry of violent motion ensued. The boy cried out in surprise as he was struck from behind by the first man's body, and surprise quickly turned to feral fear as the lanky creature scrambled to his feet to flee. He got on his feet fast, but not fast enough as Mael snagged one ankle and dragged him back down. The child landed with a thud on the ground, hands flat to the earth and fingernails clawing tracks in the grass and dirt as he was dragged backwards, gasping for air after being winded. The boy thrashed around and upright, managing to connect a small-fisted punch to Mael's eye as he flailed his long limbs. Growling a curse under his breath, the large man blindly grabbed a fistful of white hair and returned the blow. A sharp crack rang out as he backhanded the boy's cheek harshly, momentarily stunning him as he was flipped over and pressed into the dirt. The boy's staff, which had been knocked a couple of feet away during the struggle, was quickly grabbed and held by Ryan.

Caden and Pitch leapt out from behind the bushes to watch the struggle.

And a struggle it was. The boy was wild, but nowhere near strong enough to escape the two fully grown men that pinned and held him on his stomach, limbs splayed and thrashing as he screamed with his face in the dirt, one of Mael's large hands holding his head down to the Earth with white-knuckled fingers gripping his unearthly white hair as Ryan roughly caught the boy's slender wrists. The burly man made short work of twisting the boy's arms behind his back and tightly binding both wrists to the opposite elbows with the thick, coarse rope he had brought. The boy's cries were muffled by the damp Earth as his arms were wrenched back and bound. As soon as the knots had been tied Mael let go of the boy's hair, instead placing one heavy knee between his shoulder blades to hold him down. The child twisted his neck until he was no longer eating dirt, and one cheek pressed into the ground. His cries of protest could be heard now, not that it mattered; useless screams of "Get off me!" were cut short as a swath of cloth was stuffed into the boy's mouth and tied sharply behind his head. The child yelled around the gag unsuccessfully, anger being replaced by pain as his hair was wrenched at once again, tears starting to drip clean tracks down his muddied face as black spots danced before his vision.

The child wheezed pitifully as he tried to gasp in breaths, and rapid breathing turned to hyperventilating before the boy promptly blacked out from the pain and stress, limbs suddenly going limp and breathing slowly evening out.

Just like that, the whirlwind of flying fists and feet ended. Mael and Ryan slumped with exhaustion, wiping their brows and shaking their heads as they talked and chuckled with relief. Pitch and Caden approached the limp boy and the two men, a sneer on the lithe man's face as he took in the sight before him. With a nudge from the toe of Pitch's boot the boy flopped over onto his back, allowing the man to get a better look at what they were dealing with. Meanwhile, Caden, Ryan and Mael thumped each others' backs in celebration, shaking their heads and congratulating each other wholeheartedly.

Pitch wholly ignored the commotion, crouching low on his haunches to get a good look at the boy's uniquely pretty face: pale cheeks with an undertone of blue, like someone had left the boy out in the cold during a winter's night. The cheekbone just under the left eye already sported an ugly purple and yellow bruise from the blow Mael had dealt. The boy's lips, stretched open around the cloth gag, were a pinkish-blue tone and cracked from the cold. His eyes were closed and the large lids relaxed, giving him a peaceful, serene look as if he had fallen asleep in the grass instead of having been caught unawares and tackled by two men. The eyelashes were white as his hair, and his bangs fluttered over his brow then stilled with the breeze. Pitch noticed that delicate fern-like patterns of frost nipped at the seams of the boy's cloak as well as the tattered pant legs. The boy was cold to the touch.

The westerly wind moaned at the loss of its wintry child, sending brittle leaves rustling from their branches, but the men paid no mind.

After a moment more of looking over the unconscious form, Pitch rose.

"This is indeed what we were looking for, but isn't over yet; anything could happen until he's secured. We need to get moving. Mael, tie his feet, would you?"

Mael broke from his comrades, giving Pitch a curt nod and kneeling with the rest of the rope at the boy's legs, where he wound the short length around his bony ankles and tied the end securely, giving the knot a tug and slicing the extra rope free with his knife. He then hoisted the boy up and over his shoulder, motioning to Ryan to open the back and unceremoniously dropping the limp body inside before twisting the end and slinging that over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The boy hardly weighed a thing.

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**A/N: Yeah, Jack is fucked, lol. Who knows if he'll be able to get out of this one. *shrug* I guess you'll just have to wait for chapter 4, eh? Don't forget to leave a review! I love reading your lovely comments! :) Thanks for reading.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I shall answer some of your questions! :)**

**glumbumble: Oh dear...wait, are any of the bait objects iron? That would derail this little fae hunting trip fast, since fae are weakened by iron, so they instinctively avoid it themselves...will Jack have a tendency to talk to himself?**

**-No, but iron will be in use shortly! Jack does that, yes. That's what happens when you're lonely. *shrug***

**Guest: Intersted with where this is going. Will the other guardians be making appearances?**

**- :) I don't plan to make them characters, no.**

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_Mael broke from his comrades, giving Pitch a curt nod and kneeling with the rest of the rope at the boy's legs, where he wound the short length around his bony ankles and tied the end securely, giving the knot a tug and slicing the extra rope free with his knife. He then hoisted the boy up and over his shoulder, motioning to Ryan to open the back and unceremoniously dropping the limp body inside before twisting the end and slinging that over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The boy hardly weighed a thing._

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Jack had less than a clue as to how long he was out. His consciousness seeped back to him like water through the tiny cracks in cupped hands, little by little allowing thought and pain into a world of darkness and numbness. The first thing he noticed, though his eyes were still closed, was an ache coming from behind him. He concentrated on moving the parts of his body that hurt and realized when his arms twitched behind his back that they were bound fast with scratchy, thick rope. Cloth pressed heavy over his tongue.

The trickle of consciousness turned into a raging flood, crashing through the dam gates and into reality. It all came back.

Jack's eyes flew open.

Dark-why was it dark? It took a few rapid blinks for the boy's bright eyes to adjust to the dim light and realize that the sun had just set. Every bit of him ached-his long legs, which were bent at the knees to fit into the small space he had been crammed into were sore and bruised from the rough handling earlier, and he noticed with a pit in his stomach that his ankles were bound with the same scratchy rope that held his arms behind his back. His pale feet were numb from lack of blood flow. The boy tentatively gave his toes a wiggle before moving on to check on the rest of his physical state: his aching jaw, from being open for hours around the gag; his swollen left cheek from the blow of the huge man's knuckles.

Something was not right here. Scratch that-there was a _lot _that wasn't right here. Those men shouldn't have been able to see him, let alone touch him and wrestle him into this...what was it, anyway? The cramped space in which Jack was held was built of crosshatching sticks, and a rope tied and locked from the outside what looked like the opening of a makeshift cage. Fantastic.

Back to the question at hand. Of course Jack knew the children could interact with him-their innocent minds didn't question the reality of his presence like adults did (well, make that _most _adults, after today). It was completely and utterly impossible. Unlikely at the least. But there would be lots of time, Jack was sure, to figure that whole thing out later. That's what he got for being cocky and getting too close to the humans.

For now, he was not in a good spot. The boy groaned weakly and leant forward to free his scrawny shoulders and arms from the dull pressing ache of the bars that he rested upright against in an attempt to identify his surroundings...and the sounds that pummeled his newly recovered senses.

An obnoxiously loud mixture of laughter and gruff voices came from not 10 yards in front of where Jack was held captive. He squinted to make out the scene ahead: lots of men, too many to count in the dim light, were huddled around a bonfire, seated on what looked like log stumps and passing around large mugs. A few of them the boy recognized as his captors, but he couldn't be sure with the shadows cast by the flickering firelight.

It was by chance that one of the men happened to turn around on his seat to lock eyes with Jack.

The boy glared in the man's direction, not giving up a cent of his dignity by trying to speak around the fabric stuffed into his mouth but instead challenging him silently with a feral shine in his cerulean eyes. Jack almost regretted his brashness when the dark form stood, pointing in his direction and motioning to the others that surrounded him with slurred words he couldn't make out_._

_Almost._

Still he stared, furrowing his brow in a silent dare that was matched when the man and one of his companions reached Jack's cage in just a few heavy steps.

When they got as close as they could they crouched to Jack's level so that he could clearly see both of them inches away from the wooden bars; they were both huge, and sported red-brown hair and unshaven stubble. When they spoke, Jack could smell their breath, putrid and strong with alcohol. Still Jack refused to move, refused to show weakness by shrinking back against the bars, refused to break eye contact.

Unmoved by his silence, the brutes proceeded to ask him questions, as if he could answer them. The boy rolled his eyes and turned his head to look straight forward, doing his best to ignore their gruff demands that he tell them what the hell he was and where he was from. He wasn't going to cooperate with these men. What business did they have plucking him rudely from his home and stuffing him in a _cage_? He hadn't done anything wrong. He was lonely and the village children liked playing with him.

Jack furrowed his brow once again, determinedly staring straight ahead, focusing on his pale feet as he tried to wiggle each of his numb toes. He heard one of the men snarl before he was made acutely aware of _pain _as a large hand gripping a fistful of the shock-white hair at his crown, wrenching Jack's head back against the bars and his chin up. With a sharp intake of breath through his nose the boy screwed his eyes tightly shut, blocking out the world and wishing for unconsciousness once again. A whimper escaped his sore throat before he could stop it. Why was this happening? Jack felt searing hot breath against the shell of his ear but couldn't make out the words of the men over the shrill ringing in his head. Biting down on the cloth between his teeth as hard as he could, the boy came to the sickening realization that he was at these men's mercy. Just as he felt hot tears begin to well under his lids, the fingers untangled themselves from his hair and the pain was reduced to a dull throbbing in his snowy roots. He let his breath out all at once in relief and let his chin slump down to his chest, eyes still closed, listening for the men. But instead of being met by more gruff insults and incoherent growls, a clear voice met his ears. Now he heard words he could make out. It was not the harsh voices of the burly men that had attacked him, but a rich, smooth accent that cut through the darkness of Jack's despair.

Jack opened his eyes.

The dark, smooth voice came from directly behind him accompanied by a rustling as the gag knotted at the back of his head was blessedly untied and removed. Jack could finally _breathe _completely and deeply and breathe he did, gasping and taking in hitching lungfuls of air as he tried not to cry. The strange man knelt next to the cage as Jack rotated his sore jaw and tried to get the terrible taste of the fabric out of his dry mouth.

"So. You're awake, faerie." came the simple statement in the voice from his right. Jack frowned and reluctantly turned his head to meet the stranger's watchful eyes as he scanned him from head to toe. The man's amber eyes flickered like candle flames. This one didn't look anything like the others-he was thinner, paler, and lithe, with black hair, a sharp chin and deeply contoured cheekbones. His skin was an unhealthy shade of almost grey and he looked at Jack like one would a horse at an auction. Jack didn't like him one bit.

The boy clenched his jaw, glaring into the man's eyes with a new vigor.

"No need to be like that. It would actually be better for you in the long run if you were to...open up a bit." The man sneered, his voice dripping with condescension.

"I suppose you can thank me later for getting those men off of you. Their methods are a bit less humane than I would prefer, but, ah, you aren't human, are you?"

Jack's glare didn't waver, but his hoarse voice came out less strong than he would have liked.

"How can you see me?"

Only the children of the village should be able to see him...because they believed he was real. He should have, he _should be _been invisible to adults...

All at once a sickening realization caused the boy's heart to sink, a pit forming in his stomach.

The children had told their parents.

And now _they _believed.

Jack blinked twice as his eyes started to water again.

Pitch raised an eyebrow. "If you couldn't already tell, you aren't exactly in a position to be asking questions."

"I'm not in the position to feel my feet, either." The boy shot back weakly.

That drew a light chuckle from the man knelt beside him.

"I apologize. You put up quite the fight earlier, but I suppose this isn't necessary now," he said, nodding at the ropes wound tightly around Jack's thin ankles. "is it?"

Jack averted his gaze for a moment, wondering why the man was showing something that vaguely resembled sympathy.

"No." He replied, voice barely over a whisper.

"That's what I thought." With that, the man rose and stepped to the far side of the cage and for a moment Jack thought he might open the door to untie him-a chance at escape set his heart fluttering-but his hopes were dashed when Pitch looked up at him wryly before reaching just his hands through the bars to work on the ropes. Jack didn't speak as Pitch pulled at and loosened the knots, but for some reason the man insisted on talking to him.

"Those men were drunk."

Jack could still hear the laughter and loud voices coming from the fire pit a few yards away-at least they had forgotten about him for the time being.

"I know." A few moments of awkward silence followed as Pitch continued untying the boy's ankles.

"Look, you have to let me go-" Jack's matter-of-fact request was cut short as a gust of wind rattled through the surrounding forest, causing the wooden cage to creak.

"-the wind, she misses me-"

Pitch deadpanned. "I can't do that. As a faerie, and I _know _you are-"Jack huffed- "you are a threat to this village and its inhabitants." With a final tug on the ropes, Jack's ankles were free. The boy quickly drew them up to his chest in defense.

"That's ridiculous," Jack mumbled into his knees. "I want to go _home._"

"Well, boy, I'm afraid this is your home now." The man gestured at the cage in which Jack sat.

The pale child shot him a glare, anger etched into his childlike features, contrasting with the look of his innocent beauty. This close up, Pitch knew the boy really was a prize; his dark-rimmed watery blue eyes shone with emotion and his bluish lips pursed belligerently despite the proof of his helplessness: bruised cheek, bound arms, cage, and all.

It took all of Jack's willpower not to break down and ask what was going to happen to him.

The man looked on. "My name is Pitchiner. You may address me as such."

Jack broke from his thought to meet the man's amber eyes with a searching gaze.

"Jack." He croaked quietly.

Pitch nodded once. "A pleasure, I'm sure. Listen. They are allowing you to sleep in my house-of course, certain precautions will be put into place." Jack looked wary, but mostly just _tired._

"I'm not leaving you here for them," Pitchiner motioned to the drunk men around the fire, "to do what they will."

Jack was grateful but he'd be damned if he showed it.

He was exhausted, anyway. He tried conjuring ice after he had woken up but he simply didn't have the energy for it. Maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow, he'd find a way out of this-staff or not.

The boy's eyelids drooped further even as the cage was lifted by two pairs of strong arms, jostling the small body inside of it as it was transported to Pitchiner's quarters.

"You sure you can handle this, Pitch?" Mael asked, a sturdy grip on the bars as he lifted one side of the wooden cage up to rest on his left shoulder, the other held by Pitch as they crossed the thresh hold to his home. Preparations had already been put into place; a good sized iron chain with a manacle, sure to weaken any faerie in its hold, had been hammered and secured to the wall. A handful of bad hay had been tossed into the corner of the room for bedding; comfort was not an objective here.

"I can handle it."

Once the two men reached the corner of the room the cage was lowered to the floor. The boy was sleeping, which would make everything easier, for once. Pitch untied the lock and gripped one pale ankle with long fingers, tugging the boy out just enough to lock the manacle tightly around the limb before pulling the limp body entirely out and onto the bed of hay. There was about two feet of chain between the faerie and the wall.

Thanking his comrade, Pitch headed to his bed and took off his boots while Mael hoisted the cage back up and thumped back out the door, closing it behind him.

The man had never slept more soundly.

* * *

**A/N: Ohohoh. Don't forget to review! Thanks for reading, lovelies! :)**


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